


Emily Amandus - A Hufflepuff Gone Astray

by Sydofnee



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Marauders' Era
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-13
Updated: 2015-10-16
Packaged: 2018-03-30 10:03:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3932647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sydofnee/pseuds/Sydofnee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emily is a Hufflepuff and definitely proud of that. She has one problem though: Most people see her as a stupid and naive clutz. She decides it's time to change Hogwarts and its balance of power. But what is she supposed to do as only one student of one of the four houses? The bet with Farabella Purcell, the arrogant Sirius-loving Ravenclaw is all Emily needs to help her plan along. She seems to have adopted the proverb "The higher you clim, the harder you fall" when everything is spinning out of control and not even her slightly strange best friend Chester seems willing to help her out this time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue - The Rebellion

**Author's Note:**

> Author's note: This fanfiction was written to clear up with all the clichés you have most likely come across. If you believe in all of them, this fanfiction is likely not for you. I will not ignore logic and background but if you enjoy reading classic Marauder fanfictions, this might not be your cup of tea. I will not go into James/Lily to omuch but instead, many of your other darlings might be at risk...
> 
> Translator's note: I translated this once before when I started my Bachelor's degree in Translation. I didn't get very far but I still love this fanfiction so much, I thought I'd give it another go! I have a link to the original but it doesn't work anymore since it seems like the site that used to host it is gone. I have the entire German fanfiction saved, in case anyone wants it!

 

Emily Amandus – A Hufflepuff Gone Astray

 

** Prologue – The Rebellion **

 

How do you turn into a Slytherin in the best and most authentic way possible?

I’ve thought about that question for a long time which is why I’m going take my precious time to illustrate the behavioral pattern of the so called snakes and, should the occasion arise, be able to imitate it. It goes without saying that I’ll only do that to drive the commonly pureblooded students to madness.

These are my results, which I could only compile in my black book of secrets through my attentive observations and total persistence:

  1.       Slytherins always appear in packs.
  2.       They have the emotional life of a stone.
  3.       Morals and comradery are foreign words for them.
  4.       They say nothing without their sarcasm.
  5.       Black is the only color their clothes (and their souls) sport in all seasons.
  6.       Their motto is: Each of them against any of them, but everyone against Gryffindor.
  7.       Sexual relationships with members of other houses are like a sport and pastime for them, sometimes even as a competition (who had the most).
  8.       Hufflepuffs are viewed as filth under their shoes.



I – Emily Amandus – want to eradicate the last point on this eminently brilliant list. That’s the last straw! Why do these puffed-up dudes think that we Hufflepuffs will accept their gibing and blasphemous manner any longer? The times when they were able to oppress and laugh at us are finally coming to an end! Yes … I’ll introduce the rebellion and the power of the badgers. Our patience has come to an end.

Thoughtfully, I scratch my forehead with my quill. The problem with this plan is that apart from me nobody knows about these power struggles. Neither the Hufflepuffs nor the Slytherins. How should I introduce them to my groundbreaking and mind boggling idea? Should I just stand up from this comfortable armchair and recite my still illusive revolt to the lumping present public, consisting of my future comrades?

No, that wouldn’t be an overly successful idea. The Hufflepuffs aren’t known for their belligerence or desire for revenge. They’d probably call me crazy and would never listen to me again.

Okay, I admit that I probably already have a bad reputation in that sense which most likely resulted from my rather jumpy nature and the fitting urge to change everything. To add to that, I was known for special phases which have changed rather often in the six years that I go to this boarding school.

My last phase expressed itself in a way – I remember it with horror – where I only wore green clothes and I forced everyone to call me Isolde the Pasturing. I know that that makes me look idiotic and wasn’t really age appropriate because I had been 15 at that time, but I thought the moment had come to show nature some respect.

Still, the Whooping Willow – a rather rabid but still lovable tree – saved my life by throwing Kayden Lewis and Gizem Farrel – two gorilla-like Slytherins - with her strong thick boughs into the air without further ado when they tried to have fun with me. You can’t imagine how relieved I was that these Huns had finally let go of me.

Well, thus my lovely Huffyfellows would shrug off my belligerence against the Slytherins as another phase and would never agree to me or join me.

Therefore I had to tackle this problem in another way. More hidden, more secret. Through a back-door, so to speak. But how? Should I provoke the Slytherins so that they would attack me in order to force my friends to protect me and to fight for me? Well, a rather good idea if you generously overlook the unsurpassable anxiety the Huffies call their own and the convulsively cooperativeness of the Gryffindors.

Yeah, Gryffindors. Since I’ve started to speak of those who I can’t stand, the lions can’t be absent. They are insufferably haughty, dogged, smart aleck, disastrous losers, addicted to attention, hypocritical, absolutely restricted in their ability to think, morbidly patronizing and boundlessly heroic, … oh I could carry on with this list of their negative character traits into endlessness but it would be much easier to examine two of their poster children.

First we have an egocentric, sometimes schizophrenic and incessantly eloquent ladies’ man. Yes, you all know (and probably love) him. A boisterous applause for Sirius Black, the just-turned-seventeen Casanova, who really pounces at anything that hasn’t climbed a tree at three. Okay, he gives the female Slytherins a wide berth but other than that every female being in this school has to be alert so they don’t land in a broom cupboard with the god of love himself.

 And the second one - who isn’t less wasteful in his dealings with women, is excessively talented with balls (the snitch of course) - is no one less than Quidditch-captain of Gryffindor – James Potter, whose acting talents could be described as divine. After all, he’s been feigning his undying love for Lily Evans for two months. To me it’s still a wonder that he’s been able to endure one woman for so long, or rather she with him.

“Ems, what are you doing?” A well known voice disturbs my important thoughts.

“Nothing that concerns you, Chess.”

“Really? I want to see that!” grins Chester and plops down on an armchair across from mine. I study him extensively for a moment.

Chester Comiculas has been one of my best friends since the outset of time. We had a three-month-lasting relationship last year but it failed because of his adherence and jealousy. I had broken up with him. Sadly, that doesn’t stop Chester from still sticking with me like a burdock which can be very nerve-racking. I mean, of course it can be comforting sometimes when he’s always there for me when I have problems or just need a shoulder to cry on, but I don’t need a second shadow at all times.

His appearance isn’t very inconspicuous. Not that Chester is a classical beauty like Sirius Black, no, people normally look at Chester a second time because his appearance has that certain something. It is – simply said – not something you see every day. His emerald green eyes contain the lucidity of a tarn in winter, his skin has a rather ivory paleness and since his black hair is normally sagging in all its limpness down his head, he fixes it with a rather questionable spell into a mohawk. His clothes can be described as creative: he can’t decide whether he wants to be a “playful vagabond” or a “well-versed in the ways of the world upstarter” which is why he normally wears a combination of distressed jeans with dragonleather shoes or flannel shirts with a dog collar with studs.

“It’s nothing.” I quickly explain and stuff my book of secrets into my bag.

“Are you fiddling with a new phase, Isolde?”

“Ha ha, not funny.” I tell him humorlessly and stand up rather unmotivated after throwing my bag over my shoulder.

“Oh, you have afternoon classes?”

“Yeah”, I reply and shove myself past my friend, who stretches and touches my backside as though by accident. I dart a scathing glance at him and he retorts with one if his – with the Hufflepuffs – already famous smiles.

“And what do you have to suffer through? Transformation or Potions? I always mix that up, you know”, he says quickly and lifts himself up, too so he can tower over me, since he's taller than me of course. He doesn’t like it when somebody can look down on him, that’s why we had a few arguments in saucier situations …

“Potions.”

“Ah, of course. Well, then give Fara-Mouse my best regards.” He requests with a wink and that’s why I turn my back on him and – walking around a group of first-years – walk towards the exit of the common room. It wasn’t a door or a portal of course, but merely a man-sized hole in the wall with a long, soundproof and opaque curtain in front of it. When someone unauthorized tries to enter without knowing the password the threads wrap itself around them and try not to choke him to death until a teacher arrives. Officially, nobody died yet. But I can imagine that the teachers are sweeping lots of things under a very small carpet.

“I’m going to pick you up after class, okay? Then we can walk around in the oncoming sunset, throw leaves around and gather chestnuts. Hm … Isn’t that tempting?” Chester says rejoicingly, but I just offer him a meaningful look before fighting my way through the curtain and onto the lighted basement hallways.

 

Not five minutes later I arrive in the dungeons, which are on one floor with my common room. Almost, at least. I wait with many Non-Hufflepuff’s (I’m the only representative of my house in this class) for our teacher, professor Slughorn. He appears only a few minutes later - shoving his massive belly in front of him and sporting a blessed smile.

“Oh … isn’t life wonderful?” he asks gleeful and takes aim at me, which I take as cause enough to answer him honestly – like I am:

“Yeah, the _Felix Felicis_ can work wonders.”

“You have a wonderful sense of humor, Miss Amandus.” The teacher laughs and enters the classroom, so we students can sit down. I’m always coerced to join the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws, which is why I’m grinding my teeth while I’m smacking my things onto the table.

“Well…” Slughorn starts and tugs at his turquoise colored jacket, which stretches quite dangerously around his middle – I’m envisioning at the moment how much pain you’d suffer, if you were hit by one of those extremely stressed knobs because I believe they could jump off pretty easily – and lifts up a small bottle from the teacher's desk so everyone can see.

“In order to revive your brain cells, what kind of a potion is this?”

My hand darts upwards nearly automatically, just as the hands of two Slytherins. The girls at my table didn’t even hear the question because there are updating each other on the newest gossip – an utterly lifesaving action that can’t wait until the lesson ends, of course …

“Miss Amandus.” The teacher says and I explain happily:

“ _Wolfsbane Potion_. Recognizable by the slightly greenish-shimmery color and the bitter smell.”

“Precisely. And this?” He lifts another vessel and my hand is up again but Slughorn decides to deign Regulus Black the chance to a public spiritual effusion.

“That’s the _Draught of Living Death_ , recognizable by the waterlike clear coloration. The consumer of this potion will sleep perpetually like a dead person and nothing will be able to wake him.”  
“Excellent. Five points to Slytherin”, radiates the surely overweight teacher happily into the round which makes small aggressions rise inside me - Why hadn’t I gotten any points? As a protest, I stop listening, I know everything about potions anyhow because my father is a healer in St. Mungo’s and downright rammed his knowledge into me, thus I shut my mind down a bit and listen to the inept conversations at my table.

“I think Regulus’ voice is very similar to his brother’s”, says Beverly Joyner and throws a furtive look to the Black-Slytherin, whereupon Cindy Doss, who is at the moment – I think – Sirius’ new _mattress_ , protests petulantly: “Shut it already! Sirius never speaks with such coldness and meaninglessness in his voice. He is always passionate anyway.”

“Right. And don’t tell Sirius that you’re making comparisons between him and his gone wrong brother. You know how stressed their relationship is”, agrees Cassandra Davis with disgust, which is clearly designated for Regulus, in her voice.

“Yes, that’s it. Regulus is an absolutely terrible imitation of his brother. I mean, he can’t even hold Sirius a candle in looks, but his character … there’s a reason why everybody believes that he’s a scheming yucky son of a bitch, who jumps girls in dark backstreets”, interjects Farabella Purcell vigorously und throws her blond ringlets to the other side of her head – oh, I hate her so much. That’s why I pull myself together and side with Regulus, just to provoke Farabella.

“I think Sirius started that rumor because he’s jealous. I heard that Regulus is the better lover.” Farabella gives me a more than despicable look and – what I have to realize with horror – Regulus’ attention is mine, too.  Did he hear me? No normal human can have ears this good, right? I shiver at the thought that a Slytherin had potentially witnessed me playing his advocate – what a stigma. Now, however that may be, I hadn’t been able to keep my mouth shut again, which is why I have to endure that now.

“And who might have told you that, Hufflepuff?”, scoffs the blonde across from me spitefully, whereupon I don a triumphant smile – what a wonderful question. That’s just the perfect template for:

“Well, from the same one that told me that Sirius’ little friend is overworked to such an extent that he has denied his services quite a few times already. I’m really sorry for you, but it could be that you’ll never have the glory of becoming one of his one night stands.” I notice out of the corner of my eye that a little smile fights his way onto Regulus’ lips before he turns his attention back to the teacher – great, now I’ve played a part in amusing a _snake_. Farabella (I’m going to call her Fara from now on, you shouldn’t waste time on unimportant things) gasps outraged, if not aghast.

“How can you even dare, Hufflepuff?! Sirius had – how _I_ heard it - merely a one-time fluff.” Now it’s my turn to be stunned until I burst out laughing and I capture the teacher’s attention immediately .

“What’s so amusing, Miss Amandus?”

“Nothing, nothing. Forgive me.” I'm puffing and blowing, then Slughorn turns away nodding and continues the lesson.

“How can you laugh about Sirius?!”, Fara hisses with a piercing voice whereupon I hiccup once and then reply smiling to myself:

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to be blasphemous.” Fara narrows her mousy eyes into slits and her friends imitate her. “You talk pretty big, Hufflepuff. I bet he’s only in your bad books because he sent you packing without a comment.”

I grab my heart with a histrionic gesture. “Oh Merlin. Now you've wounded me.”

Fara doesn’t seem to know what to answer – she just opens her mouth to close it again – and so I narrow my hazel eyes. “In all honesty, Fara. We all know that it’s pretty easy to twist Sirius around your little finger, that’s no real challenge. I bet he would have taken you all into his private broom cupboard if you had asked politely.”

“And that from the girl whose experiences with the other sex are limited to a fatuous relationship with a confused freak”, she counters and crossed a line with that. I mean, I only talked about actual facts, right? But she zapped me with words that are really painful. How can she insult Chester like that and peg our bygone relationship as fatuous?! I lean over to the blonde Ravenclaw, so that I can see her light clear skin in all its horrible magnificence.

“Name one student – doesn’t matter who it is – and I’ll get him to accompany me to Hogsmeade. You’ll have to achieve the same with Sirius.”

“Oh, didn’t you say a moment ago that it was easy to twist him around my little finger?” Fara says and I raise my eyebrows.

“Well, your charme will be enough to get him to go into a broom cupboard with you but I doubt it’s going to be enough to get him to go to Hogsmeade with you. He always goes with his friends. Not one girl has managed to pull that.”

“Deal. I’m not going to have any problem with Sirius. You, though, are going to find Regulus too hard a nut to crack, I’m afraid. Have fun.”

I try to hide my horror and put a good face on the matter but it seems like they get that I’m pretty nervous. Fara smiles thievishly and reaches out with her hand to seal the bet.

“If you’re not able to get Regulus to go to Hogsmeade with you, you’re going to have to confess your undying love for Sirius and that you’re yearning for his body … oh yes.”

“Fine with me. But if you fail …” I feign a moment of thoughtfulness. “… you have to spend a whole day at Peter Pettigrew’s side and exuberantly idolize him. I think that’s going to keep every guy away from you until you graduate.” The corners of Fara’s mouth twitch. She’s probably trying to figure out whether she’s going to make it or whether the risk’s just too great.

“All right. The bet’s made and there are enough witnesses who know the conditions and boundaries.” My smile is a bit tortured because all the witnesses are Fara’s friends which tips the balance a bit but … well …

We share a very hostile look and I turn my attention back to Slughorn who tells us right at this moment to open our books and encourages us to brew a potion with the name Prurigo (lat. to itch). The potion’s normally used to lift the atmosphere on children's birthdays. I barge into the task with ambition and keep touching my forehead, so that I can make sure that everything’s where it’s supposed to be up there. Because, after all, I’d just agreed to sweep a Slytherin free and easy off his feet ….


	2. Chapter One - Encounter of the Third Kind

#  Chapter One

**Encounter of the Third Kind**

When the bell finally rings and everyone fills samples of their potion into little flasks to give them to Professor Slughorn, I exhale with relief, put my things back into bag, bring my flask to Slughorn’s desk a little with a little too much energy and rush out of the class room – I have to have a plan of action in order to win the bet in spite of the current hopelessness!

“Wow.” Chester who had been leaning casually against the wall, looks surprised and examines me with a frown. “What happened to you?”

“The usual suspect”, I say monotonously, grab my friend roughly by his arm and drag him into an adjoining hallway which - as I know – leads into the entrance hall, too. A stroll through Mother Nature will surely help me think and Chester is probably going to be happy, too, because now he can throw leaves around after all.

“What happened? Was Bello mean to you? Do I have to grill her?” Chester begins to roll up the sleeves of his robe. I have to laugh a bit. His creation Bello, which is derived from Farabella naturally, is funny time and again.

“That wouldn’t really help me. I couldn’t keep my mouth shut again”, I confess and gloomily furrow my brows. Chester watches me inquisitively.

“Really? Don’t tell me you have dropped blasphemous hints about Sirius Black?”

My shoulders slump. “It started with that but I suggested a bet: She has to get the older Blacky-Darling to accompany her to Hogsmeade and I … well, I have to do the same with his truly dearest brother.”

Chester falls back for a moment but then catches up with me again, just to stare at me with eyes as big as saucers which rivaled the ones of my houseelves.

“Are you kidding me?”

“No, sadly. And if I lose, it’s going to be horrible and unworthy of a human being.”

“You have to blow Snape’s nose?” He scratches his forehead thoughtfully. “That would surely take eons of time and would be disgusting.”

“That’s not it”, I object coolly and lower my voice because a group of Gryffindors are approaching. “I’d have to announce in public that I love S.B. with my whole heart.” I use only is initials in case the Gryffindors can hear as well as Regulus can.

“That you love Sirius Black?” shouts Chester with barking laughter which makes my efforts useless. The _lions_ have reached us by now and snidely stare at me.

“Do you want to scream a bit louder?”I hiss at him and punch his shoulder. He chuckles happily.

“You’ve got quite the plight there, Miss.”

I desperately chew on my lower lip. “Yeah. I mean, if I confess my love to Sirius – only hypothetically – my self-esteem would totally go south. I would never be able to look into the mirror again.”

“Well, you’re not doing that very often.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I say a bit outraged and squint at him out of the corner of my eye. Chester laughs – he has a horrible sense of humor.

“Just that every human looks into the mirror 4,5 times a day. You can endure that, right?”

I wrinkle my forehead irritably while we are approaching the entrance hall. “How can you look half a time into a mirror?”

“Huh … that’s only possible when you’re Frankenstein’s monster and can take off half of your face, I guess.” He tries to explain with a shrug.

“Okay … sounds possible. But since I’m not going to lose the bet, I don’t have to think about this whole S.B.-thing. I just have to get Regulus to go to Hogsmeade with me. But how?” I look at my companion questioningly but he doesn’t seem like he’s thinking in the slightest. I groan – that you have to do everything yourself …

“Chess, that wasn’t a rhetorical question. Say something!”

“Plumpudding.”

“Something within context!”

He giggles like a kid that has done something forbidden and I want to smack him against the ceiling with a little _Levi Corpus_. After he nearly chokes on his laughter because he sees my dangerously twinkling eyes he calms himself and explains:

“Well, you’d probably have to sleep with him so that you can be sure he actually knows you exist. And then you’d have to kill somebody for him so that he accompanies you to Hogsmeade.”

I deliberate for a moment on whether to tell my accomplice that Regulus Black knows very well that I exist and probably even knows my name but I let it be because I can imagine how this would bode with Chester.

“So, to sum it up. I’m looking at the black side of your romance with Black.” He laughs because of the joke and I skip the few stairs that lead to the grass in front of the castle (we’ve left the entrance hall again) shaking my head.

“Great. Really great”, I snarl irritably and watch the dark estates and ask myself whether it is against the rules to be outside now. Chester sure is a prefect (sometimes I have to wonder about our headmaster) but that doesn’t mean he is allowed to be outside after the curfew, let alone me.

“Perhaps we should have gone to dinner instead of wandering around here”, I say thoughtfully and ignore Chester. Instead, I look at the hut of the gamekeeper. I had been terribly afraid of his trainee - Rubeus Hagrid – my first year.

“Why? Are you afraid of the dark?”

“No, you idiot. I just don’t want to get caught by the teachers.”

“Ne-e-erd.” whistles Chester with amusement. I’m just trying to start with my great retaliation when four – I suppress a groan – Gryffindors appear in front of us. The famous and notorious Marauders. Naturally it is a given to meet these four blighters in the dark outside of the castle – dead keen for detention, is all I’m going to say to that.

“Are you lost? It’s possible to land in the forbidden forest instead of the castle for someone like you. Should we take you back into the warmth, sweety?” asks Mr. Everyone-loves-and-enshrines-me-Black with a radiating smile (in my direction, of course) and Potter laughs approvingly. My fuses blow. I mean, could you stay calm when somebody doubts you mental capabilities like that?

“ _Black_.” I say dangerously and he raises an eyebrow in bewilderment. I think he expected a thankful and reverential ‘yes’.

“If you have nothing better to do than to pester people with you stupid comments and volunteer for things they obviously don’t need help with because their sense of direction and above all their intelligence is a lot higher than yours, then please do us all a favour and keep your mouth shut.”

Black bursts out laughing and I have to refrain myself from jabbing my wand between his ribs.

“That was a good one!” he chuckles with tears in his eyes and holds his sides.

“Pad. I think she’s serious”, Remus Lupin says neutrally, who I had pegged as the most intelligent out of the lot a long time ago. Black laughs a little longer until he turns his attention back to me again. I see very clearly that his grey-black eyes keep on laughing.

“What’s your name, Hufflepuff?”

I put my hands on my hips and beg Chester in my thoughts to punch Black but my friend doesn’t seem to want to do that because of the present musclemen.

“None of _your_ concern”, I bitch back and try to take a stand against his stare. He grins again and I ask myself whether he likes to be insulted. Perhaps I just discovered a completely new side of his? I should confront Fara with that the next time I see her.

“Why so grumpy, cutie?” he dares to ask me. Instead of me Remus groans – I’m starting to really like this guy – but Black doesn’t care about him at the moment.

“Honestly, Black. It’s far too late to take myself down to your level. So how about you just continue to the castle and leave us alone?”

James Potter seems to have suffered a flash of genius because he flicks with his fingers and points at me before Black can say anything.

“I finally remembered from where I know your face.”

“Merlin forbids! He used his brain!” I sneer. Good grief, are all of them so ignorant concerning insults? Maybe I should start a study on that? I could create a name-calling-marathon and then I could draw a pillar chart on which I could note down the results – what a great idea …

“You’re on Hufflepuff’s Quidditch team, right? Now that I think of it, you are a beater right?”

“Wow, that’s a position made for a fragile girl like you!” Black says ironically and trades a pregnant look with his bosom friend - presumably because of an insider.

“Buy yourself a pair of glasses, Black! And I’m not fragile, understand that?! Besides, it was the only free position and it’s hell of a lot better than the I-roar-insipid-cheers-and-pelt-the-other-team-with-tomatoes-position that you call your own.”

“Midget-Pumpkins.”

“What?”

The Siamese twins burst out in inane laughter and Potter explains to me chuckling:

“They were midget-pumpkins: hard on the outside, on the inside like butter, sticky and they stink like dead fish – a perfect creation, I have to admit.”

“Disgusting – it took me days to get it out of my hair.” I bitch again and ask myself whether Chester beside me transformed into a statue – perhaps I should search for a pulse so that I could be sure he was still alive?

“It’s a real shame with those curls. We’ll spare you next time, cutie.” I snort at that – this conversation (if you can call it that) is annoying me, so I grab Chester by his arm and pull him away from the Club of Brain Amputees.

“Hey! Hey, you could tell me your name at least, sugar pearl!” roars Black and Chester whimpers with pain because my grip on him changed into a jaw vice.

“Inhale …. and exhale. Ems, I know you can do it. Inhale, exhale.”

“Shut the fuck up!” I try to ignore the laughter coming from the Marauders. “You should have opened your fucking mouth while I was verbally attacked by these idiots!”

Chester gives me a charming smile leans his head to the side so that his Mohawk slightly bends to the side, too. “You didn’t need me, Ems. Your oestrogen would have trampled my testosterone into the mud, on a biological basis.”

“Don’t give me that shit – you could have punched Blacky-Boy in the jaw or something.”

Chester laughs mockingly while we turn around nearly synchronically so that we could avoid the Forbidden Forest.

“Did you notice what kind of a muscleman he is?! I mean, he has a chest measurement of surely 41 inches if not more – downright frightening.”

“So what?! You could have cursed him to uplift our honour!” I object hotly.

“I think this guy has more O.W.L.s than permitted so tell me how I should have put him in his place with magic?” He sighs. “Besides, it doesn’t matter now, does it? We shouldn’t let this barbarise this great sunset – think of your Feng-Shui!”

I grumble something in my non-existent beard, don’t object but put my hands in my pockets and come to a stand beside Chester at the lake. The sun is sinking down into the horizon and disappears after a last gleam. The sudden darkness makes me shiver and the silence between me and the twerp troubles me.

“Look! That’s the polestar.” I break the silence and point to a small light in the sky. Chester looks at me with a raised eyebrow.

“That’s the grip of the big wagon, Ems.”

“So not true?” I ask and an ironic smile plays around my lips. He grins too and punches me playfully. Sadly, it doesn’t seem all that gentle to me and because I had shifted my weight onto one foot I stumble a few feet and because the ground isn’t very flat I have the luck to trip over a really small stone – plop, and then I’m sitting on the ground and have to bear the merciless laughing fit of my - former - best friend …

“I’m really sorry, Ems.” He chuckles but notices a moment later that I’m deadly serious and hurries to help me – _You-Know-Who Hufflepuff version 1.1_ – up from the ground. There’s a reason I’m called ‘racking wild boar’ (that was one of my more primitive and not really profound phases) and so I jump like a black panther onto his back once I’m safely on my feet again. He chuckles hysterically but Chester’s burlier than he looks because he grabs my legs so that I can’t get back to the ground from my high horse and then he starts to run at a gallop. I can’t help but to be reminded of my seventh birthday when my father got me a pony. Unfortunately the pony wasn’t in the mood to be nice and started a rodeo.

Well, my conclusion on this evening walk is probably that Gryffindors are as obnoxious as I thought and that I can do my homework more thoroughly when Chester’s sleeping because of exhaustion in the armchair next to me. He’ll probably have a stiff neck because of his uncomfortable position – that’s what I think about and a mischievous grin fights its way onto my face.


	3. Chapter Two - Stories of a Cupboard

#  Chapter Two

**Stories Of A Cupboard**

 

As I am sitting in my History of Magic class the next day – it’s a Tuesday – I muse without stopping on how to speak to Regulus or to somehow call his attention to myself. Everything is pretty dodgy because the first point on my list proves to be self-fulfilling time and again. I never meet Regulus alone. He’s always surrounded by other snakes, by affectedly giggling girls, by dimwittedly grinning boys and the rest of his court. At the moment, I’m considering the idea of ambushing him in the boys’ toilet but I’m dismissing this idea because of ethical reasons. Besides, he doesn’t seem to be able to go to the toilet alone, maybe he can’t wipe off his own hindquarters – I don’t know - but my mood is on a new low anyway since I saw Bello walking to lunch while linking arms with Sirius Black. Can you believe it? She had but a few hours to make a pass at him – I’m doomed!

“Miss Marandus.”

“Amandus…” I correct Professor Binns absentmindedly.

“Can you answer my question?”

The ghost is floating in front of me and looks at me out of tired eyes whereupon I sit up straight in my chair and dart a help seeking glance at Chester who is sprawling beside me and rubbing his neck.

“Analustre the troll?” I guess happily and put on the best version of my angel face but Binns only wrinkles his forehead.

“You think, Miss Marandus, that Analustre the troll married Lady Bordeaux in 1647?”

I squirm in my chair and moisten my lips with my tongue – I hate it when a teacher, even a dead one, catches me when I’m not paying attention.

“Well. Analustre was thought to be pretty gallant and charming at the time.” I smile bravely and Chester holds his nose to stop himself from laughing out loud – what a companion …

Professor Binns points with a scrawny, half transparent forefinger at me. “You’re going to hand in an essay about Analustre the troll tomorrow. Three rolls.”

I squint at his finger and nod faithfully. “Of course. I’m really sorry for not being attention.” The sleepy look of my teacher is focused on me for a short moment longer but I notice anyway that I consoled him – or he noticed that it’s totally out of character for him to use such passionate gestures – like a pointing forefinger.

The rest of the lesson isn’t very sensational and rather peaceful. Chester’s shining with his multifarious general knowledge of the history of our ancestorsand I fall back into my thoughts only to some extent – I’m not stupid and I learn from my mistakes.

 

When the bell finally rings and Chester and I are walking slowly to dinner in the Great Hall, I’m attacked by an acquaintance. He reaches us from an adjoining corridor from the second floor and is totally hysteric – Rodrick Blevins. You have to know only one thing about him: He’s suffering from every existing phobia. Let it be a social phobia which means he’s afraid of every person with a reason, or a more popular arcnophobia (fear of spiders), or the erythrophobia, which is pretty exotic because he’s afraid of the color red. I could continue this list into infinity but since humans are ephemeral my time is too precious for that …

“Emily, Emily, Emily!” he screams in a panic and I’m fearing that he might have caught a glimpse of my red panties.

“Yes, Rodrick?”

“It’s …. Merlin, it is my end!” he wheezes and snatches my hand like it’s keeping him alive. Chester is stopping to lean against a wall, bored. He knows that it could take ages until I’ve calmed this chicken enough to leave him behind again. You’re probably asking yourself why that’s my job. Well, the dear Rodrick is my cousin (his mother is my father’s sister) and that’s forcing me – unfortunately – to restrain him when’s he’s trying to jump off the Astronomy Tower after someone put a spider on his pillow again. Relatives are something cauterizing …

“Okay, Rod. What happened?”

“What happened?” he whispers horror-struck and shakes like a leaf. “My death sentence was just signed, Ems! This is my end, my end. And I’m only fifteen. My prime of life is still ahead of me and I have to depart this life already. Where is the fairness? Just where?”

Chester is absentmindedly stroking his torso with his hand and picks up lint from his sweater – I lose the thread temporarily.

“Errh, Rod”, I cough insistently and turn towards my blood relative altogether. “Just tell me why you’re going to die. Perhaps because … of a spider?”

Rodrick’s eyes are wide and he looks like he just lost it – okay, he always looks like that - and screams hysterically: “Where’s the spider?!”

I force myself to inhale deeply and grab my cousin by his shoulder. “There-is-no-spider! I just want to know why you’re beside yourself. Otherwise I can’t help you.” Well, technically help’s already too late for him but I don’t have to tell him that right now.

“Beth- … Bethany.” he presses with gridded teeth and throws a hectic glance over his shoulder – ah, there’s the paranoia.

“Bethany Tubill? The one who’s in your year?”

He just nods but his whole body is shaking.

“Great, and what did she do?”

“Shewants cupboard wimee.”

Oh well, the only thing I understood was ‘cupboard’ but that is a beginning, right?

“And what does she want with a cupboard, Rod?”

“Broom.”

That wasn’t the answer I had hoped for. “Broom? Okay, and where do you come in?” I ask objectively.

“Bethany wants to go into a broom cupboard with him, Ems”, interferes Chester with a sigh and Rodrick screams hysterically again – he hadn’t noticed Chester yet, probably.

“Okay, but that’s great, right?”

“Claus- …” he presses with effort and my patience is coming to an end.

“Darn it – Rodrick! Just tell me what’s going on. Who the heck is Claus?”

“Ems”, Chester interferes again. “He’s talking about his claustrophobia. Bethany wants to go into a broom cupboard with him, the cupboard is pretty small which means he has a problem with his agoraphobia.”

My cousin stares at Mr. Know-It-All like he’s some sort of hero whereon I let my shoulders slump. But then Rod looks back to me.

“So, tell me Emily, what should I do?”

“Just tell her that you’ll have to meet in a bigger room et voilà – nothing’s in the way of uncontrolled sex.” The chicken stares at me flabbergasted – did I say something wrong?

“Bethany told me that she just wanted to learn herbology!”

I raise an eyebrow doubtfully and Chester chuckles. “Why would she want to do that in a dark broom cupboard? Please, Rod. I think the girl’s a deep one – she wants to seduce you, dearest cousin.”

“But …. But…” stammers the curly haired boy in front of me and turns considerably paler.

“Don’t tell me you suffer from esodophobia too?!” asks Chester with a lopsided grin and I crinkle my forehead. “That’s fear of the first act of sex.”

“Why do you know things like that?”

“I have the technical literature, babe.” He whispers with very sexy (and very loud) voice into my ear which unsettles Rodrick even more.

“I’m refusing to tolerate you talking like that to my cousin, Chester! And you, Emily, I have very bustling contact with your parents, so don’t march to a different drummer, young lady, or you’re going to be in a lot of trouble!”

I chuckle because Rodrick sounds like my respectable grandfather Charles Vincent Amandus – a veteran from the war against Grindelwald in 1945 – and that’s just ridiculous in consideration of my strange cousin. But of course I’m not going to let myself be blackmailed because of this boloney – that would be even better!

“Rodrick, tell me to who you run when you’ve discovered another personal apocalypse?” I ask with a voice as sweet as sugar and my opposite wrinkles his forehead.

“Well, to you but what has that got to do with my statement?”

“Very easy.” My voice becomes more creaky and first of all quite a few degrees cooler. “Your dear cousin Emily is going to give a shit about all of your problems from now on, got that?” I turn around with a lot of grace and want to strut away but the little one is backpedalling very quickly.

“Ems. Emily, I didn’t mean it, okay? We’re friends, right? And friends help each other.”

I turn around with an innocent look on my face. Chester is still leaning against the wall and is following the trajectory of a housefly with his eyes.

“Well, Rod we’re only true friends if you promise me that nothing that you’re going to find out about me is going to get to my parents, okay? What happens in Hogwarts, stays in Hogwarts.”

“I … okay, but then you have to promise me that you’re not going to engage in sexual intercourse.” The look in his eyes is strangely determined and single-minded.

“Oops”, comments Chester in buoyant spirits whereon I dart a destructive glance at him.

“What’s that supposed to mean, Emily?” asks Rod with a disgusted look in his eyes.

“Nothing, Rod. You know that Chester talks the whole blessed day long. But we have to eat now. And I advise you to talk to Bethany about your problem. Have a nice evening”, I say that in about five seconds and grab Chester by his arm and drag him into the Great Hall without fuss or quibble. Rodrick seems to be taken by too much surprise to say anything.

“You exorbitant idiot! Do you have to push my luck like that?!” I spit at my sometimes mentally disabled friend.

“Unequivocally equivocal, sugar pearl.” Chester chuckles whereon I push him ungraciously into a group of first-years and continue to strut away.

“Aw, Ems! Roddy-baby is not going to run to your parents because I dropped some hints”, he tries to appease me after he rescued himself from the first-years – who seemed strangely happy he had thrown them all to the ground – and caught up to me again.

I snort scornfully at that. “You can rely on Rod in that case and if my words didn’t cut a figure with him, well then my parents are going to send me a howler and then they are going to come here personally. Damn it! – I don’t need this shit right now.”

“Your folks love you and they always thought of me as their future son-in-law. “

“The former could actually be true.” I knock him back again and muddle along. “But I can’t risk it anyway to soil my reputation in the family because of such a chicken-feed, understood?!”

“What kind of reputation?” asks Chester with an aggressive voice – he is really sensitive, that poor boy …

“I’m a model student, the quick wit that always wins out over everybody, the upholder of moral standards, and the … I’m just everything positive and respectable, okay?”

“Of course, Miss Haughtiness.”

“That wasn’t meant to be haughty but simple fact. That’s just how it is. Dear me, why am I justifying myself?! – You’re annoying!” 

“Yeah, you, too!” says Chester and looks straight ahead. I’m silent for a moment and then I ask soothingly: “Why are we fighting so much lately because of unimportant things?”

“Because we’re both annoying.”

“You’re not funny.”

“Thanks, neither are you!”

“Great.”

“Great.”

“Great!” I groan. We‘re turning around a corner and I get the perfect view of a phenomenon I didn’t think existed – Regulus Black, completely alone. He leans against the wall in a corridor that is opposite of the Great Hall, which means he is on the right side of the corridor out of which I’m coming at the moment. Merlin, that’s complicated. Let’s just say he’s nearer to the Slytherin common room than the Great Hall and I saw him only because I had been deliberately looking the exact opposite way that Chester does.

I’m parting ways with my friend rather abruptly which he notices with careful lack of interest and continues on his way to the Great Hall and I’m roaming towards the enemy … err, sorry … towards one of the honorary students. My knees are doddering somehow which makes me angry. I mean, who is that guy anyway? Just an inferior Slytherin! Right, I can’t do anything wrong. They are accustomed to everything after all: chadbands, schmucks, dumb-asses, liars and much more. And if I offered him a mixture of everything he’s supposed to feel homey, right?

Regulus is leaning – like I saw from afar – against the cold stonewall and holds a book in his hands with which he is seemingly pretty preoccupied because he has a crease between his eyes. The night black hair is falling into his face with a casual elegance and frames his face. His lips are sensual and gently pink, his nose can be taken as manly - it isn’t hooked or somehow inordinate but it isn’t pure innocence either. It looks like the nose of a Greek athlete: I visited a Greek exhibition in the summer for antique artifacts and the statue of Hercules – the naked Hercules, that goes without saying – and that burned abiding memories into my brain. I can’t grumble over Regulus’ physique either. He has the perfect proportions – slim legs, slim hips, a muscled belly, broad shoulders, marvelously formed upper arms and adorable hands.

“Can I help you somehow or do you want to continue staring at me free and easy, hm?” asks the owner of the afore mentioned body neutrally. I mean, there is no mockery, scorn or odium in his voice which is probably what irritates me more than the fact a Slytherin caught me while eyeing his appearance a bit closer than usual.

“I am –“

“Emily Amandus, I know.” He interrupts me again without even looking at me – and I’m really perplex which is pretty rare for me.

“Shoe size?”

Now he lifts his head up with a wrinkled forehead. “What?”

“That was a joke. I was just surprised you knew my name.”

He raises his eyebrows and I ask myself how many muscles he can move simultaneously.

“We’ve been going to the same school for six years.”

“Wow – that totally slipped my mind!” I say sarcastically after which my opposite closes his book without a sound and gives me a very close look.

“What can I do for you, Emily?” he asks and it sounds darned sober.

“I … well ….”

“Did they ask you for a test of courage? I know that you’re not here out of your own free will – so what is it?”

Good grief – when was I last taken aback like that? I can’t remember.

“It’s not a test of courage.” What retaliation, really remarkable. I’m surpassing myself here.

“What is it then? Blackmailing, stress analysis, a jovial act? Come on, just tell me!”

And then – I don’t know what’s getting into me – I tell him the stupidest thing I’ve ever said in my entire life.


	4. Sad News

I have pretty sad news today. Due to a recent computer crash and subsequent total data loss, I've lost the original fanfiction. I've tried looking online (the original title: Emily Amandus - Eine Hufflepuff auf Abwegen) but I didn't get one single hit. I still know in general how things turn out but there's no way for me to continue this because I'm really not much of a writer. I'm really sorry.


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